Moloch's Song
by lollipop-mania
Summary: Drabbles and anecdotes surrounding the relationship between Roland and Arriane, set before and during the series.
1. A Good Day

**Author's Note (Standard Disclaimer)**

I_ don't really YA anymore, but randomly picked up this book and pretty much fell in love with the characters Roland and Arriane, and am **convinced **they have a thing. I mean, come on!_  
_The things is, I have ideas. And so I will put them here. The drabbles have various ratings and are not chronologically in any order. Some will take place in the books, some won't._

_Enjoy, and PLEASE review! That way I'll know 1. if it is any good, and 2. if people actually like this pairing, as I have seen NOTHING about them together anywhere else._

So, yeah. Enjoy.

Oh, and I own NO rights for any of the following chapters.

**Review.**

Lollipop.

* * *

**Name: A Good Day in Heaven  
Rating: T  
Number: I**

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Arriane smiled, her thin, white, flowy dress brushed against her calves as she walked down the halls. Unusually blissful, she relished the feeling of the warm sun beaming against her forever alabaster shoulders, as her freshly washed hair hung softly against her skin.

It was a good day in Heaven.

And it got even better when she pressed her palms against the door, knowing who was on the other side.

He pulled her in, shut the door soundlessly, and then pressed her against it- his speed making all the movements seem instantaneous. He was pushing against her, his strong chest pressed to hers, hands holding her neck, muscled thigh in between her legs, against her groin.

He looked into her dark eyes, tempted to kiss her before she could speak. He didn't.

Instead, he watched her thin lips as they opened, forming words. She chose one of the hundreds of human tongues already spoken.

"Don't act so desperate, Ro. You might actually make me think you enjoy this." Her voice was coy, teasing: spiteful.

He smiled slightly, close lipped, leg in between hers lifting her small body up so they could be eye to eye. "That would be a shame." He whispered.

And then he kissed her, lips moving over lips, hands in hair, pulling, moving closer, tongues lacing together, wet, hot, teeth bumping, clothing being torn- it all mixed into one, and together, Roland and Arriane fell into their new routine.

Yes, it _was _a good day in Heaven.

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**REVIEW**


	2. The Bet

**Name: The Bet  
Rating: K+  
****Number: II**

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"And you can give your compliments to my new pet, right over there." Arriane pointed to Luce, who stiffened. She just chuckled, turning around to see Roland over by the window, nodding to her. Quickly, she winked at Luce, who didn't notice, mid-conversation with Cam, and then went over to her old friend.

She stood by Roland, crossing her arms around her chest and watching Cam work his magic. The tall man talked, running a hand over Luce's desk in a flirtatious manner he had used more than once on mortal women.

"So she already saw Daniel" Roland whispered, referring to earlier in the yard. "How is she feeling?"

"Ha, I give them a week before he caves."

"That bad?" Roland asked, angling his head, "Well, with Cam here, Daniel might lose sooner." One of his dreads brushed her shoulder, and she could feel it sharply. If someone ever said having heightened senses was a pain, well, she would surely prove them wrong.

Arriane glared at Luce and Cam. Yes, with the way Luce was looking at him, well, it would make anyone, especially someone as moody and passionate as Daniel, cave. Cam knew perfectly well what he was doing."All that jealousy and shit. Fifty bucks?"

This time, it was Roland's turn to laugh, "I never could understand that kind of jealousy. Love like that is confusing." He sighed, then stuck out his hand. "You're on." Arriane chuckled.

Luce turned her head and looked at her new friend.

"Time to save her." she mumbled, patting Roland on the shoulder.

"Oh, Ari" he said, as she walked away. She stopped, but didn't turn around. "I like your new hair."

She faced him and smirked, she had plans to meet Luce, but right now, with that comment, in that voice... Yeah, he took precedence, "yeah, I'll see you tonight."

Now it was his turn to smile.


	3. The Parting of Ways

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, I've been preoccupied. I wouldn't have published anything for a few more months had it not been for the two reviews and few requests from **Ireth Tasartir Elf Princess**, so thank you for that. This was done for you, on be-half of your Roland becoming evil request. And if anyone has any more requests, just ask. I'll do them all, unless they don't make sense. I know this one is a little long, but I had trouble fitting it all in even with this extra length.

And don't forget to review!

**

* * *

Name: The Parting of Ways****  
****Rating: K****  
****Number: III**

**

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**

She screamed, gripping his shoulders as he turned his head away from her. He couldn't look at her right now.

Rain poured down, pressing her freshly cut bangs to her face.

"No!" She said, scratching her nails into his tan, glistening skin. "You can't do this!"

His voice was a whisper against the pounding of the rain and the cries of combat taking place a few feet away, "we all have to choose our loyalties…Arri."

"You chose!" she shouted above the noise, "you chose our side! This! You chose _me._"

He turned at this, peeling her nails from his bleeding skin, his hair had grown long enough to brush his eyes now, the water making droplets fall from his lashes, "I'll still be here. But I have to choose what I believe in, you know that."

She grabbed his head and rammed his lips to her, forcing her tongue into his mouth. The kiss was rough, and hardly romantic- teeth banging and lip biting.

She pulled away and blinked up at him, "if I say 'I love you', will you stay."

"You don't have to say it. You can't force me to fight for something I don't believe in."

Her voice choked, tears streaming down to mix with rain, "I love you, Roland."

"I know" he said.

"But if you leave, I will be forced to fight you, and. I will try to kill you."

"I know that too." He said, squeezing her hand.

"I won't say it again."

There was a small tug on the corner of his lips, but the moment was too serious for a smile. "For as long as we're together, I won't expect you to."

"Don't do this, Ro. Don't. Don't leave."

There was a roll of thunder, a crash of bodies, and a shatter of wings before he said a final word in part, "Arriane."

"No!" She shouted again, reaching out to touch air, but her cries were lost among the noise of the skies.


	4. MDCCCLIV

A/N: Thanks for all the requests you guys! This chapter isn't actually one I was asked to do, but I promise to complete all the ones asked, or that will be asked, in due time. This takes place in the third book when Luce goes back in time. I THINK it was 1854, but can't quite remember (I only skimmed) but will correct it when I actually get around to buying the book. Also, I know this one is even longer than the last one, but bear with me. I will explain this chapter in more detail at the bottom.

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**Name: Eighteen Fifty-four****  
****Rating: T****  
****Number: IV**

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The night was cool, sharply green grass brushing the air as a dark breeze passed over the estate. The leaves were beginning to grow back along the naked branches, the flowers blooming with the pre-summer temperament. But as beautiful and peaceful as his surrounding was, it paled in comparison to the glaring eyes of the woman in front of him, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders in frozen waves- Annabelle.

"What are you doing here?" She asked with little more than distaste, but an obvious contained fury.

He paused for a moment, evaluating the situation before offering a small shrug keeping his gaze steady to counteract his calm gesture. He didn't like Annabelle, and he had no problem letting those feelings be known. "To watch over the girl," he said simply.

Her eyes ran from his shoes over his body to meet his gaze once more, "and how do you expect to do that? By washing her floors?" She spat.

"It's not a good time, Ro," another voice said, surprising them both. "Your skin may not be black, but is too dark for these times. Lucinda is better with me, here, now."

He turned around, shoulders rolling back and his neck cracking as her voice sent fire through his veins. "I've been in worse situations before, Arriane."

The starched collar of her dress felt constricting as she watched her old friend look at her with those striking eyes. "You don't have to do everything Cam tells you," she said softly, "Daniel will be here soon, and there is nothing he can do to stop it."

"Cam doesn't control me, Ari," he muttered, looking at her. But regardless of the casualness he had put in his voice, the air remained thick. The tension straining. He could feel Annabelle behind him, seething.

"Leave," Annabelle interrupted them, nails digging into her palm as she struggled to contain her growing rage.

The silence lasted for longer than it should have, the tension sitting heavily on everyone's skin. Finally: "I am here for a purpose, I can't just leave."

"If it is to fuck my sister again, then I suggest you get out of here before I kill you. "

"Annabelle!" Ari tried, but Roland cut her off, shaking his head.

"It's been sixty years," he replied quickly, not glancing at Arriane, "I am here for Lucinda."

"And yet, every time you show up with that pretense, you end up-"

"It's all right, Annabelle, " Ari cut in, putting up her hand in a soft gesture, but her voice was filled with enough dignity to make the other woman shut up, "let him stay"

Annabelle glanced at Arriane, her face white and eyes fiery, "But Arr- he broke your heart!"

A look passed between Roland and Arriane, the breeze claiming the cool night air, "it's okay," she said finally, "I broke his first."

* * *

So, the way I look at their relationship is this: they _might _(still unsure about that) have tried being together once or twice, but it never works out. But although they can't ever really be an item, they are still together in that they are a type of friends with benefits that manage to be in love with one another though are quick to deny it. They are more friends who know they are together but are not a couple. And they usually fight and end things for years before reconciling. Or maybe they don't ever reconcile but become amicable and involved during peaceful times among the Fallen. Does that make sense? I guess it is up to you to decide for now, but I will get more specific in further chapters. But the idea is that they aren't "together" but are. So, good luck figuring out whateverthefuck I just said.

Reviews are love.

-Lollipop


	5. Shoreline Part One: The Date

A/N: this was a request from **Claire **who has left crazy sweet reviews. This is part one, and, as far as I know, there are three, maybe four, parts. i am considering rating one of them M so be prepped in case you don't want to read it. enjoy.

* * *

**Name: Shoreline Part One: The Date****  
****Rating: K****  
****Number: V**

* * *

"She is not ready," Arriane said seriously, pulling her wide-brimmed red hat lower to increase the shadows on her face, effectively hiding her from the few eyes that had turned her way every now and then since this dinner thing had started.

Roland took a sip of his ice tea, throwing his arm around her shoulder casually, "oh," he said, watching Luce talking with her new Shoreline friends, "I think she will be fine." Instinctively, Arriane crossed her legs and arms, leaning back to rest her head against the crook of his neck in a friendly manner.

"Eighteen days?"

He gave a small shrug, "Cam knows what he's doing."

"So does Daniel," Arriane shot back quickly.

Roland didn't respond, choosing to watch the object of their conversation eat her dinner and unintentionally flirt with the Nephilim boy sitting across from her. Luce was having a hard time without Daniel, Roland could tell that much. But, she was always having a hard time with Daniel, and as different as this time was, this part didn't surprise him anymore, if anything, it was sort of boring.

Arriane reached for her glass on the table and brought the straw to her mouth. He could barely make out the movement of her lips with the straw between them as she drank, so covered in a shadow they were.

"Stop staring at me," she said, sitting up straight.

He frowned for a moment, and then shrugged the comment off, moving to lean his elbows on the table and turn towards Arriane. "Do you think that they are right to send her home?"

Arriane sighed, "it was her request."

"With all of us? And her parents? That doesn't exactly sound like a promising prospect."

"What? You'd rather stay here?" She snapped.

"Why would I want to stay here?" He asked.

Arriane paused, sipping her drink. "I don't know, because you have girls hanging all over you?" Roland deepened his frown, following Ari's eyes to where those two Nephilims in his class sat, staring right back at him in the corner.

"You mean Jasmine and Dawn?"

"Oh, they have names?"

Roland rolled his eyes, putting his arms over his chair and leaning back again. "Don't be stupid, Arr," he said, "they're just my classmates."

"The short one even looks like me," she said, annoyed.

Roland thought it over, "yeah, kind of. I bet she doesn't hit like you though."

"Speaking of, you're lucky that thing is still on my wrist," Arriane said harshly, standing up and straightening out her black sundress, "otherwise I'd watch out. Later." She said in a sweet, sappy voice.

He sighed, moving closer to where she was standing, "Arriane, come on."

But she was gone, skirting around their table before glancing over at Luce and raising her hat, giving a small wave. Luce shot an unreadable glance to Roland, who ignored her as Arriane swiftly disappeared into the night.

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Note: in the last chapter, I confused the servant girl Henrietta for Arriane's sister who's actually named Annabelle, so that has been corrected, and Annabelle will definitely be coming back again. since there is like, no canon on her, i've made her into an equally as brash and protective ari, but part of that protection is anti-roland, just fyi.

Also, check my tumblr for updates.

**Review! Review! Review!**

(i only got 3! for the last chapter!)


	6. Before the Flames

**Name: Before the Flames****  
****Rating: K****  
****Number: VI**

"The German's are going to hit Moscow soon." Cam said, hair blown away from his face in the wind as they stood atop a hill overlooking the city.

Cheeks red and lips chap, Roland only nodded. "She's there, isn't she?"

"Yeah, so is he."

"Last I heard, Molly and Gabbe were there too."

"That means the Alters will be coming soon."

Roland swallowed, looking away from the city a few miles South and glancing over to where he knew the German tanks would be arriving within the next few days. "Annabelle, maybe. Not Arriane."

Cam chuckled under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Right, this is the exact thing she would want to miss out on."

Roland rolled his eyes before sobering. "She's married. She can't just come to Soviet territory on a whim, especially during these times."

"You'd rather her stay with her new husband?" Cam asked snidely, but then realizing he had crossed the line, he stopped, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Yeah," he said, ignoring his last comment, "because Arriane has always been one to abide by someone else's rules."

* * *

_Well, that's new_

_So, this will be explained. I mean, as I see it, they all 'play' seventeen year olds, and that is a tricky age. I'm seventeen and yet, haven't been carded since fourteen. fourteen to twenty all kind of look the same, i guess. sometimes even older. plus, during some periods, kids were married and pregnant at like... twelve. so i assume this must have happened at some point. but yeah, this will be explained later on._

_also, this takes place a few weeks before Luc comes back in time in moscow and see's herself die. Understand?_

**Remember to review! (reviews are love, and i need more of that)**

**-LM**


	7. The Room Revisited

**Name: The Room Revisited ****  
****Rating: K+****  
****Number: VII**

This was a request by **Ireth Tasartir Elf Princess**... kind of. I mean, she requested one about why Arriane's room is right next to Roland's at Sword and Cross. I'll definitely DO that one, but before that, this is kind of a part two though there is no part one yet... weird, I know. (hence the 'revisited'). So I WILL do it, don't worry. And everyone remember to review/request because I'll be doing a lot of requests for the next few weeks. Anyway, enjoy.

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Arriane watched from her perch on the bench in front of the picnic table as the current Lucinda emerged from a car with two adults. Her parents? She didn't really care. Lucinda was sporting short, sexy bed-hair, and Arriane immediately liked it. She fingered her long tresses, debating when she felt a new heat beside her.

"Yo," Roland said, sliding into the empty seat next to her. Arriane turned, glancing at him before sliding further down in her seat.

She was in a pissed mood. And Roland was the last person she wanted to see (except for.. perhaps Cam, whom she had seen walking into the building onto the grounds only a few minutes before. It had been a few decades too short since she'd last seen him, but he was't far below Roland on her list). It wasn't like she'd planned on ditching the school for a few days only to come back and be excused from "running away". She had expected the yelling and punishing and administering of medicine, and she really had expected the placing of a monitor on her wrist- but really, _they _should have been expecting the punch.

But that wasn't _really _why she was upset. It was more of the fact that _he'd_ told her to not come back if she left -why not? It's not like any staff could hurt her- and _she'd _claimed he was being thick -and now she was immobilized from defending herself.

"I hate to say I told you so-"

"You love to say I told you so."

"-but the situation calls for it. Don't you think?"

Arriane turned her head once again, looking up at him as he watched Lucinda with an air of nonchalance.

"If you think you're getting laid tonight, you're daftly incorrect."

Roland shrugged. "I've got my ways," he said. And then he leaned down a fraction of an inch and whispered, hand sliding from his pocket to her upper thigh with a squeeze. "Anyway, I hear they're giving you the same room as last time."

"Pervert," Arriane shot back, getting up and walking away. She followed where Randy, that annoying bitch, was ushering her into the building. But she turned at the last second to see Roland watching her, eyes half-lidded and body completely relaxed, bored even. She sent him a dirty look, and he just shrugged. And in those last few minutes, all of her anger had somehow disappeared.

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Yo, reviews slacking! come on people!

Please? Fankss.

Oh, btw... Claire: girl! get an account so I can write you! I have so many comments to all your awesome extended reviews and no way to contact you! (so seriously, make an account or tumblr me or something.)

and... btw, if you add me on tumblr and then don't tell me you're from THIS fandom, I won't post anything from here. So tell me otherwise its all Naruto. Great! Thanks- Luc.


	8. Without A Word

A/N: Sorry it's been a little while. I got kind of distracted. This take place in the Spring of 1944 (I've decided!). Inspired by another story. Btw, if anyone else has any RoArr fics they can show/recommend to me, I'd love to see who else is writing them! Thanks!

Standard Disclaimer Applies.

* * *

**Name: Without A Word  
Rating: T  
Number: VIII**

* * *

There was a knock.

And then another one.

He wasn't very inclined to open the door. Sleep was not an excuse, but when it was three a.m., did you really need one?

But then there was another knock, and a: "I know you're in there! Open the damn door!"

He wasn't in the mood to entertain company, and during a war, one never really knew what kind of company was calling, especially at such an hour. But the voice was relatively desperate, definitely female, and altogether recognizable, and so, he slid off his bed and into the next room to open the door.

"Arriane?"

Her eyes were trained to his face but she wasn't quite looking at him. "Can I come in?"

He didn't move for a moment, more out of curiosity rather than disrespect, and when he did move aside, she pushed past him quickly. She'd never been here before, not to this house and, in all likelihood, probably not to Spain, but she noted each object in the room in moments, folding her arms across her chest before deciding that the place was safe and turning back to see him.

He shut the door. "Arriane," he repeated, "what are you doing here?"

She continued to not meet his eyes, toes tapping on the wooden planks.

"Arr—" he tried again, but she put up her hand. It was shaking –her whole body was shaking—and though she tried to mask it, he could see it well enough. She obviously was not going to end anytime soon. With a sigh, Roland sat on the edge of his coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees and watching her. This could take a while.

She began to pace. "Do you like me?"

"What?"

She stopped and turned on him, repeating the question with more bite.

"Not particularly right now, why?"

She brushed some hair off her face. There was dirt on her cheek. His shoulders tensed for a moment, but the blood on the rim of her ear wasn't hers, and he gave another sigh. Her fingers were fumbling by her sides.

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Arriane? What kind of question is that? Are you—"

"Just answer it!"

He rested his head in his hands. Tonight wasn't going quite the way he'd planned. "Yes."

"Do you love me?" The question caught him off guard. But one look to her face –if her tone hadn't done so already—informed him that she was serious.

And so he gave her a serious, honest answer.

"Sometimes."

Her fingers moved, still fumbling, to her collar. The thick material of her dress was buttoned up to her neck, and she made haste of undoing them. Buttons held all of the coarse material together and it wasn't long before she was standing unabashed in a sparsely lit, commonly frigid living room in only her underwear.

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

His eyes wandered up from her stockings to her garter and felt his mouth go dry as he reached her lips, and then, without meeting her eyes, he answered honestly.

"Yes."

* * *

"His name was Willem."

He placed and hand on her back. "A sailor?"

"He was on leave for the holiday, he wasn't even in battle."

Roland took his hand off the heat of her skin and rolled from his side to face the ceiling. He didn't really care about her now-dead husband. He didn't really mind that she was hurting.

He was a sadistic bastard, and he knew it.

But in all honesty, she didn't help her case by coming to him the night her lover passed.

"Are you angry?" Her voice was quieter than it'd been all night, though by now they were well into daybreak.

Roland sighed and rolled back onto his side. "You haven't spoken to me in years. You barely said a word to me in Moscow. And now this?"

"We've done it like this before." She shot back, quickly defensive. "I meant about him?"

He huffed, and moved away from her, throwing his legs off the bed and standing up. Ignoring her question, he wandered to his dresser.

"Where are you going?" She snapped, turning around and sitting up.

"I'm not going to leave this life just because you're hear, Arr. I have a job to get to."

"You're annoying."

He buttoned his trousers in haste. But one glance at her was enough to keep him from retorting. She was hurting. He was her friend and whatever feelings he may harbor about her and her predicament should've come in second to making her feel better. They didn't, but they should, and he was old enough to acknowledge it. He tucked in his shirt and walked back to the bed, leaning down.

The kiss was slow and very contradictory to the previous night. But it was growing, and he remembered the way she moved against him, the way she always had, and the memories brought back certain things that really should've been staying dormant.

He pulled away before he lost his judgement. "I'll be back tonight. There's no food in the kitchen."

"Right." She said, giving him a nod as he left.

He stepped down the stairs and outside to greet the waiting morn. He would be returning here in a few hours, not long at all really. But he wasn't expecting to see her again.

She had come to him for reckless companionship, but what she really needed was to scream and break something. What she needed at the moment, he couldn't give to her. He knew it. Apparently, she did too. When he came home that evening, she'd already gone.

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Still taking requests!

Read & Review!

Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE.


	9. The Muse

So, this one is a bit different. For starter's, it is Roland alone. Arriane is mentioned (of course) but she isn't present. It's also kind of a retaliation to the new book. Idk if you have read it yet, but I wasn't too happy with it. I guess I would've been more upset if she told the story of RoArr, because it would've contradicted this fic, but at the same time, there was like, NO MENTION OF THEM! I mean, I almost thought they were just friendly and nothing was going on, but then I flipped back through other books and they are just...unf, _so obviously fucking_.

Anyway, in the book, Roland is with a girl named Rosalie and Arriane is gay (bi, because she is seriously with Roland)... so in this Roland is too (of course, I mean, being alive so long you're surely sleeping with everything). So, I don't know how you guys will take to this, because it is very different from previous chapters... so let me know.

I'll publish another (better) chapter soon, back in my usual writing style.

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**Name: The Muse  
Rating: K+  
Number: IX**

* * *

Roland had been an artist once. A long time ago.

He'd had this muse working for him, a young thing, hardly old enough to take off her clothes for him—though during those days, age had never mattered, however, he'd never really been into that.

Quite on the contrary, he liked his women older. Women who knew the boundaries of their relationships, ones that didn't ask him for too much, and specifically ones that never wanted his love. He'd given his heart away before, as everyone does, and, as everyone else, he'd had it torn and ravaged and utterly destroyed.

There had been Alison, Rosalie, Margarette, and Lucrezia, all of whom had worked their way into his heart at some point since the Fall, and everyone of them had left him pitifully distraught in their wake.

Considering the fact that he has been alive since the beginning of time, a set of loves small as this was relatively limiting, but for Roland, it was enough to make him wary of the relationship between companionship, sex, and love. He took these women to bed because it took away, if only for a moment, the desolate, consuming feeling of loneliness that had, and would, accompany him for millennia.

He liked his women a certain way. He liked tall women, ones whom thought for themselves but were reserved and quiet. He liked a forlorn beauty, women that kept secrets, women that met him in the middle of the night to scratch an itch that'd been gaining on him for any number of days, months, or years.

He often liked married ones.

His men he liked quite differently. On the off chance that his lover was male, which had happened quite a few times, he chose ones that weren't like his young muse nor his older women.

He chose young men—small, strapping boys that had never considered making love to another man. When he pursued a woman, it took no more than a few meetings before they realized the meaning of his interest and came to him. He was never the one to seek out the woman, he just made his intentions somewhat clear and she could approach them however she liked. With his men, he had to push.

And it was more fun that way.

He came to them and pursued them, pushing and insisting, and biding his time before tumbling into bed and experiencing the euphoria that sex _is_.

But during his brief stint as an artist, his young muse had fallen into neither of these two categories. She wasn't one of his older women and she certainly didn't resemble an innocent boy. And for years, he could never understand why he was so attracted to her.

They'd met one afternoon as he entered the West Moorlands. Her family had owned the stables he'd rested in. As soon as it was obvious that he was interested in her, her father had offered him a price. Surprisingly, his girl had hardly seemed roused by the gesture, if anything, she was glad to join him. In consideration of that, he easily paid the much too low fee.

Occasionally they'd settle down, a year here, six months there. He made good money off his art when he went into a city, and she was more than willingly to follow him wherever he went.

She was beautiful, more so over time, with thick black hair and a sharp chin; calculating eyes that could determine all the pheromones in the air quicker than he could snap.

He didn't love her. But he loved painting her, he enjoyed fucking her, and liked her company, but for a while, he had no idea why.

And then one day they ran into Gabbe and it was only five minutes before he understood.

She had found him as he was entering a city square on the coast to sell his latest piece. They had exchanged a few good-natured words, still enemies but always siblings, before she asked him for an update.

Roland only shrugged, "traveling."

She asked to see his painting, and he obliged, pulling the cloth away and displaying his new work. As an artist, he was nothing special. But the picture was classical and he could be a good salesmen when need be, it would get him good money.

Gabbe looked at the work with a sad expression, knowing and solemn at the same time. He hadn't expected the expression. It was one he'd never seen in regards to a painting.

But he only raised an eyebrow, moving the cloth back over the frame.

"She has been south," Gabbe said slowly, "further east too, I think."

"Who—"

"It's beautiful, Roland," Gabbe said, putting a hand to his cheek for only a moment before withdrawing and stepping back. "I'll see you," she said softly, turning away and falling into a crowd.

He knew it then, as he should have the instant he'd seen the girl on the road half a decade before.

She was the spitting image of Arriane. And in the places where she wasn't—the wider nose and slimmer eyes—he had painted her as such, manipulating her features into ones that looked more familiar. There was a tug on his gut, and after a few minutes of standing alone among a mass, Roland handed the painting over to a fruit vendor and descended into the streets. He wouldn't be returning to his muse, but it hardly mattered. He'd stayed too long as it was.

The air was heavy as he continued walking, pace after pace with no destination in mind.

There'd been all his young men and all his older women. There'd been Alison, Rosalie, Margarette, and Lucrezia: the women he'd loved. There'd been his beautiful young muse.

But none of them even touched on Arriane. She was the one that left the void all his other lovers were used to fill, and even then the hold only remained partially full.

And every time he got rid of her, every time he finally thought he was wholly, truly, blissfully in love, she always came up. With Lucrezia, beautiful Lucrezia, whom he married and then abandoned days within Arriane showing up again. And Rosalie, whom had left him heartbroken, and then had quickly been forgotten as soon as he saw Arriane again.

And his muse. His young girl that had given herself to him so easily, was all just a manifestation of the one person who he tried to get away from.

Fate was a tricky fellow, and Roland was never one to enjoy his game.

Perhaps, for now, it was all the same to continue on down the street. As incurable as loneliness seemed to be, it was never as disastrous as being with Arriane always was. Whether for a few hours or a few years, whenever she left—or he did for that matter—it hurt significantly more than the pain of walking through an endless world alone. And so, step after step, Roland continued on, angry at the skies.

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Loved it? Hate it? Like I said, very different.

Review and tell me what you think! Always taking requests!

TBC


	10. La Memoire Sale

Meant to do Arriane's pov, but this came out instead. Apologies.  
Still really angry at the last book. Okay.  
(standard disclaimer applies)

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**Name: La Memoire Sale  
Rating: T  
Number: X**

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"Do you need help?" He asked as she began unhooking the plates on her shoulders.

Arriane shook her head. "I do this every night on my own."

He nodded. Of course she did. But plate armor was neither easy to don nor remove—he had stripped himself of it only a moment before, and even after centuries of wearing similar suits, it still held difficulty.

She was swifter than him, starting on her gauntlets and making her way up her arms and torso.

The night was cool, warm for the season, but still relatively frigid. There was a fire burning beneath a mantle and their clothing had kept them heated, but as he stood in only a pair of thick britches and long socks, he couldn't help but feel the bite. It wasn't that it was bothering as much as it irritated.

Arriane didn't make any comment on it though. She hadn't been too talkative since they'd run into one another, but the answer behind that seemed reasonable enough. After all, he'd seen the gaping wound on her neck, only now covered now by a thick mane of hair.

It was one thing to see it later on, when it had scarred. He didn't remember when they met next in her timeline, but he was sure he had never seen it like this. And when he'd asked about it then, she hadn't said much more than she had right now.

Love, she'd said, which only meant one person could be responsible. It had always been hard to say she was in love with Roland. She never was. And she never wasn't. There were varying degrees, but whatever the majority, every moment was a combination of the two.

It had never been easy to say she was in love with Tess.

Being with Tess was dangerous, she was fiery, and she understood Arriane in a way he never could. Tess was never a replacement for Roland, and so, he was fine with her.

On occasion—jealous, certainly. But before all else Arriane was his friend and he would do whatever he could to protect her. If that meant supporting her sporadic trysts with an enemy, then he would do so.

Whatever had happened this time, whatever Arriane was hiding, and whatever had struck her had to do with Tess. He'd always known it. But it was one thing to know something after viewing a scar and quite another to assume something while staring at an unhealed laceration.

"Arr," he tried, moving to stand behind her, "let me clean it."

"I'm fine," she said shortly.

"It'll close faster if it's clean."

"I _said _I was fine." She spat back, head whirring around to glare at him. He countered, and they battled in silence for a few moments before she begrudgingly relented and held up her arms.

Roland exhaled slowly, glad. It wasn't often that she gave into him. He closed the few steps that separated them and grabbed the chainmail around her torso gently, attempting to take it off without hitting her neck.

It took a few tries, but eventually he was only able to strip her of the all her armor with only little damage to her wound. Her arms stayed up, and though she didn't reply to his raised eye brows, she didn't put up any resistance when he began lifting the long shirt above her head and then removing the bindings around her chest. Her breasts weren't large and easily hidden beneath the armor, and he was surprised to see she was wearing binding. It wasn't something he'd seen on women for centuries.

It was vaguely exciting.

"You never liked her." Arriane said softly as he peeled away the bindings.

Roland, who was kneeling, glanced up.

"You are glad that she's dead." Arriane continued bluntly.

He stared at her for a moment before exhaling and dropping the cloth is his hands to the floor and looking down to untie her shoes. "It is not in my interest to see you hurt." He said.

Arriane placed a hand on his shoulder for balance. "I would gladly take any punishment if she were to live."

"I don't mean physically."

Arriane straightened and he looked back up. There was a pause as she considered the words. "That's surprising, considering you do more than enough emotional damage to me."

Again, at this, he sighed and began untying her britches. Her lower abdomen was warm where his fingers brushed as he worked away at the ties. Neither of them spoke.

She was right. He hadn't like Tess. He was glad she was killed, if only so she would stop causing Arriane any more confusion.

Loving one demon was enough. Tess was asking for trouble.

Right now, Roland was also asking for trouble. He always was, always had been. But that was different. Tess was a whim. A dangerous girl that could take Arriane for a ride whenever she felt like it. Roland, on the other hand, was more conscious of the danger. He never got to close too Arriane. Nor she to him.

Tess had never thought out the risks. She'd made Arriane vulnerable.

He was glad she was dead.

"Why are you here?" Arriane asked after he had finished undressing her and she sat naked at the edge of the bed, her hair tied up.

"The festival."

"I thought you were in the East."

The Roland on her timeline was—somewhere in North Eurasia. He didn't remember the exact place. He had ended up staying there for only a decade.

"I was."

"Your hair looks stupid."

He fingered a dread, coming to sit behind her, one leg hanging off the bed and bucket of warmed water sitting precariously over the covers. He dipped his kerchief into the bucket before placing it on her wound and rubbing out the dirt. "It's the style there."

"Hn."

He hid a grin and continued laving her wound. It was beginning to bleed again, but on the whole, looked much cleaner than it had before.

"Were you here to see Rosalie?"

Roland's previously inclined head shot up. He didn't remember telling her about Rosalie—not for another few centuries, at least.

"Daniel told me." She explained. "Said you were in love with a court girl."

"I'm not here for her." He answered in a tone that was meant to end the conversation.

"You should have married her."

"What good would that do?" He began washing her shoulders. And then, in afterthought added, "you're here."

Arriane shrugged, knowing what he meant. She gave a flinch as he brushed the cloth over her wound again.

They didn't speak anymore after that.

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a/n: still taking requests

tbc


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